


A Permitted Luxury

by Silential



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Belly Kink, Bondage, Chubby Hux, Exhibitionism, Humiliation, M/M, Masturbation, Stuffing, Sub Hux, Weight Gain, Weight Issues, pretty sure these are improving in quality chapter by chapter, slave Hux
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-29
Updated: 2016-06-30
Packaged: 2018-07-10 23:28:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7012495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silential/pseuds/Silential
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Collection of kink prompt fills relating to Hux with a little more cushion for the pushin', so to speak.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Kylo Ren/Hux - bondage

**Author's Note:**

> (Each title reflects the pairing and/or specific kink beyond just 'chubby Hux'.)
> 
> Come talk to me about chubby Hux (or any Hux) at somethingstately on Tumblr!

Black and white. Rough and smooth.

Hard and soft.

Kylo’s gaze snagged on each crisscross of the strong black cord, thick without being overwhelming, the color standing out so stridently against his lover’s skin. Fingertips trailed over the elaborate mesh hugging Hux’s middle, digging into the thick press of flesh and arranged precisely to highlight every aspect of its curve. Kylo hadn’t thought Hux could get any more perfect until he’d seen the rolls forced up by his restraints, begging for his kiss and touch and the half-meant bite of his teeth.

Hux was relatively thin yet, his arms and thighs having gone largely untouched by his recent indulgence, but his soft stomach, blowing Kylo’s mind a bit, had softened further into a _belly_ – something Kylo never would have pegged the General as capable of having much less _wanting_ not three months before. But there it was, dotted with the small purpling of past fingertips and the harsh red line of a stretchmark or two, since eased and kissed and sucked by Kylo’s admittedly greedy mouth. In absolute terms the weight was small, but the speed with which he'd gained it, and the singular laser-targeted focus with which it favored his gut, had suggested the promise of more marks to come. On his knees, legs stretched with a spreader bar meant to show off the needy cock brushing against the insistent curve of his belly, Hux moaned into the gag preoccupying his mouth, full pink lips stretched by the ball forced between his teeth. His right hand gripped his left wrist, the cord around his slim wrists making a mockery of his usual position as General.

A different night might have seen Kylo tying the bonds only to push chocolates into that mouth, but he’d had other intentions tonight.

“Look at you, Hux,” Kylo whispered, gently caressing the hair under his hand, licking his skin like a flame, “Bound and gagged. Never more aroused.”

Hux only nodded, eyes falling shut as a low moan tore from his throat.

Kylo grinned, hand making tight purchase in the red strands as his other slid down the pale column of Hux’s neck to alight on one pert nipple. He squeezed, rubbing slowly in a circle before flicking rapidly across the top. Quiet pants, muffled as they were by the gag and oh so sweet, followed each flick.


	2. Hux - food kink and exhibitionism

He didn’t dare indulge this more extreme end of his… _interests_ while he was aboard the Finalizer.

There the weight of his rank bore down upon his shoulders, the rings upon his sleeve as searing as any brand into his consciousness. He was to be in control at all moments, perfectly held together down to the last hair meticulously gelled back into place. Pride wasn’t even the half of it – no, his success as a leader in protecting the lives of the nearly eighty thousand individuals entrusted to his care depended on his crew trusting him implicitly, carrying out his orders and his vision without a single second of indecision.

So, for the better of everyone involved, he waited diligently for his shore leave for this particular act. A nothing city on a nothing planet, somewhere in the Outer Rim and wholly devoid of a single soul who could recognize him out of his uniform and hair oil.

Hux had a feeling that seeing their General , leaning back at a table set and supplied with enough food for two (or three, or four, he liked to imagine, in between bites of the ragout), wouldn’t exactly fulfill the high standards expected of his rank.

So on board he enjoyed his meals in private, paired always with a dessert, with the incremental tightening of his belt the only hint to his private activities. Such a thing was easily disguised to the public eye, the evidence of his slowly thickening waistline only apparent to his own questing hands in front of the mirror, squeezing and pinching before sliding further down.

On leave, however, he could make himself comfortable, ordering enough to last him the night as he methodically raised each forkful to his lips – rich dishes, half of which he hadn’t even known the nature of before ordering. Bite after bite, half-listening to the crooning of a singer in an array of different languages, interspersed only with sips of Corellian whiskey. He pushed a lock of hair out of his eyes, the one that always fell without a comb and gel to keep it in place. Mindful of the furtive eyes flicking between his lips and the slowly swelling arc of his belly, he liked to imagine what the other diners could be thinking – their judgment, their scorn, maybe wonder at how his still relatively thin frame could take as much as he put away. A part of him desperately wished someone might say something, casually lean over and couch it in the cloak of advice, as if he couldn't see the condescension and disgust in their eyes - reminding him _to watch himself, wouldn't want that belly getting any fatter, now would he?_

Someday, Hux liked to think, he might work up enough nerve to try to pop the button of the gray slacks that constituted his civilian clothes. Full, in sight for everyone to see, belly pushing out freely as his pants gaped open on either side. He wouldn’t even cut short his dinner, Hux thought, merely continuing without the added pressure across his middle, anyone able to see how far the General had let himself go.

Until then, he kept a napkin bunched strategically across his lap, as much to collect any wayward bit of his supper as hide the unfastened button of his trousers and aching cock.


	3. Regulations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anon requested: Hux gets embarrassed because he has to push his belt beneath his belly so the clasp won't pop.

Hux had read the regulation handbook so many times he practically had it memorized. There were regulations about the optimal manner in which to don one’s boots, style one’s hair, and, for kriff’s sake, even to approach interested potential lovers in hostile and non-hostile environments.

Thus far he hadn’t run far afoul of any of them. Such was to be expected, of course, given his position as General. In fact, he’d been quite the shining beacon of regulation in all its forms, strict adherence to party line and official mandate as much of his public persona as breathing.

Until Ren.

Of course until Ren, who was the closest living embodiment of dysfunction and defiance of regulation that could possibly exist.

So it only seemed appropriate that twelve months after the Knight stepped aboard his ship, nine after slipping into his bed, and five after the first time Kylo had left him a mess, stuffed and moaning and too full to do more than tremble on his back as the man’s cock pounded his ass –

Hux should have to break regulation.

The handbook called for the placement of one’s belt at the natural waist. That was supposed to be the thinnest part on all human men and women, somewhere around or just above the height of the navel. Hux had buckled his there for years, at or nearly at the tightest setting, depending on the severity of the rationing system in place at the time.

Only his appointment to General had meant that rationing no longer applied, a fact Kylo had been more than willing to exploit. He’d made more requests of the kitchens in Hux’s name over three months than Hux had in his own over the span of two years, usually content to grab the same exact bland nutrition supplement from the officer’s lounge once a shift and eat on his way to the bridge.

There had always been more important matters to attend to, the time spent over a meal seeming like a kriffing waste, and eating, alone with only the crush of his own harried thoughts for company, had never carried with it any particular satisfaction. 

With Kylo though – and it was Kylo more than Ren now, more often than Hux would like – there burned an enjoyment Hux could breathlessly admit to himself he’d never experienced before. The richness of some sweet or another, taste lingering on his tongue as it curled around the fingers that had brought it to his mouth, sucking every mote of sugar and drawing a groan from Kylo’s lips.

His favorite was when Kylo fed him with one hand, the other stretching the tight ring of his ass. Buried up to the third knuckle, filling him from both ends. His cock would twitch and bob in vain as precome leaked from the tip.

He begged for that quite often. 

As much as he might disavow the use of the term later, begged, voice cracking as Kylo forced him to spell out exactly what he wanted, was the truest way to describe it.

It was the only reason Hux found himself in his current predicament, fiddling with the two ends of his belt, the space between them seemingly yawning like the distance from one Galactic extreme to the other. His face, flushing in the mirror, burned as he tried sucking in, the action allowing the two sides to tug slightly closer but not enough to buckle over his belly.

Stars above, his _belly_ , since when did he have that?

The start of a soft paunch, rising full and thick from just under his chest to grow even heavier under his navel. His belt couldn’t hope to stretch across what had once been the trim line of his waist, the apex of the natural V made by the taper of his shoulders and torso. Bloated, thickened, Hux had been forced to find a slightly larger jacket, no longer as form skimming in an attempt to hide, both to his men and to himself, exactly what lay underneath.

Swallowing, refusing to meet his own gaze in the mirror – stars above, he couldn’t – Hux lowered his belt, getting it to hook on one of the last settings. A roll of flesh crested over it, but it couldn’t be helped.

At this height, at least it fit.

Regulations be damned.


	4. Touch (slave Hux)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Slave Hux

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come talk to me at [somethingstately](http://somethingstately.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr!

The oil slicked against his palms, delving between fingers to gather in the canyons between them. Hand over hand. Twist. Slide.

His Master watched. Sitting in the chair dragged next to the bed, dark-eyed stare glued to the easy trajectory of his fingers. Long legs tensed under black fabric, crooked awkwardly before him.

_Touch yourself._

The thought echoed in Hux’s head, ricocheting to his hands. At the surface the same one he’d heard on other lips and on his own what seemed a lifetime ago, when the mark of a Major still encircled his wrist. When he sat at attention on the bridge – not on command but in it, back rammed straight with the hollow ignorant pride of the elevated cadet.

How foolish all that seemed now, how worthless, Hux reflected, watching in half-fascination as the slick glistened in the low light of his Master’s quarters. _Squeeze_ , it coaxed, _caress_. It was a mantra curving inward, tugging at the line building thread by thread between the curve of his belly nearly resting on his thighs and the half-hard cock lying pink against the skin just below it. The farther the former inched, the tighter the grip snaked around the latter. The faster he found himself hard, with the too casual glint in his Master’s eye that meant a night spent on hands and knees, gut hanging heavy and full and trembling as his Master fucked him. Belly at last painted red with flush, striped white as he spilled.

Slick met the soft skin of his side, cupped in a gentle palm. Questing fingers pressed into the growing roll, dividing with the lightest of suggestions, squeezing flesh that only grew thicker as he drew forward. Oil easing his way, Hux slipped along it, smoothing at last with his full hand as it neared his navel.

As his Master delighted in reminding him, he was getting fat. It pressed and rolled through his fingers in a way that had disgusted the once Major, all scrawny and malnourished truth under the starched lie of the uniform. The futile tears for his failure, the silenced and shaking sobs and self-conscious shield of his arms, as much to comfort as hide his stomach, just beginning to soften. If the reminder had once tindered the sick sweet burn of shame, it didn’t now - a spark maybe, here and there, but it didn’t catch. Comfortable on the edge of a silk-soft bed, long enough to fit even his legs and strewn with an asteroid field of pillows. Smothered to a whisper by the hot pool of excitement welling up just behind his navel, teasing out the slowly thickening and lengthening line of his neglected cock. The generous mouth and insistent tongue flicking just under his head as Hux would reach blindly at the laden table, pleasure a fuse lit at both ends, turning _he shouldn’t have gotten so big_ so insidiously into _how big could he get._

Hux swallowed.

 _Touch yourself like he wants to touch you_.

He kept his gaze trained away, falling to the bed. His Master liked him shy. On full display, hard and soft - he felt anything but. His hands swooped in long strokes over his middle, oil warm and slippery.  

His Master had given him the oil, cautioning him against the blemishes of stretchmarks while his hungry gaze imparted hope for quite the opposite. A compromise had seemingly been reached, the result of a carefully negligent hand, a few recent fireburn lines scoring the curve of his lower gut and sides to blend with the white-hot wheals of the old. His Master would lap at them, teeth scoring lightly against the reddened skin before his lips would suck and suck –

 _For your waist_ , Ren had said ages ago, a smug leer twisting his lips as he’d pressed the jar into his hands. _Your belly, once I’ve given you one._

He’d said it like it was a gift. More and more Hux figured maybe it was. Slipping both hands below and mindful of Ren’s searing focus, Hux gently rubbed into the delicate flesh underneath. Ripples moved upward from the motion of his fingers, and Hux couldn’t resist lifting it the slightest bit, only to let it drop through the slick-wet cradle of his fingers. 

His Master gasped, the barest in-drawn of breath. Still more than enough to Hux’s ears.  

Hux flushed, for once not planned.

The red inched up his collarbone, suffusing his neck and cheeks. It was enough to make his Master laugh, wide mouth pulling into a grin lopsided to match the cant of his jaw. A stray hand trailed along Hux’s cheek, drawing against the skin his Master insisted he keep smooth.

“I have a treat for you tonight,” Ren breathed.

Hux kept his gaze on the long line of his Master’s thigh, so familiar between his own. His own voice was quiet, barely skimming across the air. “I would love that, sir.”

His Master left his cheek to reach for something at his feet. He rose triumphant, a certain gleam in his eye. A box of Rutian chocolates, from what little Hux could remember of the system from classes. Ages ago, a lifetime ago.

Sweet. Decadent. _Fattening_.

Ren’s eyes crinkled, the smile soon following. With a Force user, conversation existed on two planes.

“Yes,” his Master said, plucking one from the box and holding it to Hux’s lips. “Definitely.”

Hux’s mouth parted, the chocolate delicately coming to rest between his lips. Ren’s fingertips brushing just against the fullest part of them, Hux took a bite. He let it rest on his tongue, a soft moan easing past his lips at the rich burst of flavor. His eyes flickered to the box, perched on Ren’s knees.

His hands splayed across the insistent swell of his stomach, imagining the box’s contents drawing his belly forward, pushing between his fingers. Fingertips trailing small circles over oil-slick skin, Hux pushed the thought into the open, rewarded with a groan, blown black pupils.

_Touch yourself how he wants to touch you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come talk to me at [somethingstately](http://somethingstately.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr!


End file.
